


To Fear the Light

by Megg33k



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chaptered, Demon Sherlock, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a ward of the afterlife, who saves John on the battlefield. In return, John pledges his eternal devotion... whatever that means. Whatever it is, it's got to be better than death, right? Only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Fear the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my boo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+boo), [you know who you are](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=you+know+who+you+are).



> This is gonna be long. Like, super long. I'm aiming for this to be my first novel-length fic, despite having promised myself I would never do that. Whoops! Buckle in, kids, this is gonna be a long, bumpy ride! ;)

“I think I’m dying,” I gasped to no one in particular as blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I dug my fingers into the sand, wet and crimson, taking what little comfort I could from a puddle of my own life force.

_Stay on your back_ , I told myself, _in case the bullet is still in your body_.

I looked around for help, but everyone I knew was preoccupied with being dead. Their bodies littered the landscape as a gruesome reminder of what I was about to become. A carcass, a hollow shell, a dog tag to be collected, and (if I was lucky) a bag of ashes to be sent home to my alcoholic sister.

_Living the dream, Watson. You’re living the bloody fucking dream._

_Living. Heh._

But what a waste. I had talent that would never save another life. A heart that would never offer up its endless devotion. And a lung with a fucking hole in it, as best I could tell. _What. A. Waste._

Just about the time I was closing my eyes, ready to give myself over to the darkness, I heard a voice. A disembodied voice, but a voice nonetheless.

**_You don’t have to die. Not here. Not tonight._ **

A lying prick of a voice, obviously. So nice of my subconscious to be a complete and utter twat in my last few moments. Auditory hallucinations were something I was prepared for, but I hadn’t really considered what I’d do if I suddenly started hallucinating an arsehole who dangled false hope over my head. And how does one argue with their own hallucinations? Doesn’t that sort of thing get you locked up?

“Fuck you,” I shouted back into the darkness.

What were they gonna do? Lock up my corpse? At least something interesting would be happening to me in death.

**_Fine. Die then. See if I care._ **

“Fine. Maybe I will.”

“Good.”

_Good? What the hell is wrong with you, Watson?_

“No, wait. Not good. I don’t want to die.”

**_Excellent. Now we’re getting somewhere. I was beginning to think you were boring enough to just let this happen._ **

“Who are you? God?”

**_. . ._ **

“Please… God, let me live.”

**_I stand corrected. Definitely boring. And now you’re begging?_ Dreadfully _boring._**

“Okay. Not God. Then who? And why can’t I see you?”

_Because you’re hallucinating, you idiot._

**_Idiot, yes. Hallucinating, no._ **

“Can you hear my thoughts?”

“Are you going to save me?”

“Is there anything I could do to help swing the vote in my favour?”

**_Ew. Don’t be disgusting, John. Plus, you’re in no condition to—_ **

“No. Not… not like that.”

**_Oh. Then, perhaps. You offered up devotion earlier. Did you mean it?_ **

“I-I suppose. To the right person, I mean, yes.”

**_And am I the right person?_ **

“I don’t kn—”

**_For your life?_ **

“Yes.”

**_Are you sure?_ **

“Yes.”

**_Is that your final answ—_ **

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, just save me before I bleed out.”

**_Sold. And, for the record, you haven’t been bleeding out since the moment you answered me._ **

“What? Wait, then what did I just agree to? And why?”

**_Because I could still have let you die. Although, if it helps, I’m glad I didn’t have to._ **

“You didn’t answer me. What did I agree to?”

**_Devotion. Plain and simple. You’ll see in time. For now, we need to get you out of here._ **

And, just like that, a tall, lithe man with an odd, angular face stepped into existence. He effortlessly lifted me—sheltering me with immense, inky wings—and carried me to safety. I couldn’t see through his protective feathers, but I could hear bullets whizzing by and occasionally pinging off of their deceptively armoured exterior. In short, he didn’t just save my life the once—he saved it nearly constantly until the moment I was found.

I was still wrapped up in his arms when my commanding officer and the remaining members of my platoon got to me, but no addressed or even mentioned my winged bodyguard. Which only served to make me feel like I was hallucinating all over again.

“You’re not,” he promised without prompting.

_Then why can’t they see you, too?_

“I’m not meant for them,” he replied to my thoughts. “I’m yours.”

“Are you an angel?” I asked aloud without meaning to.

I heard my commanding officer chuckle in the distance and scoff the word ‘angel’ to… presumably, someone. “You’re going to be fine,” he told me.

The words that brought me comfort weren’t his, though.

“A ward,” the not-an-angel explained. “And you? My charge.”

_Do you have a name?_

“Sherlock,” he whispered in such a way that the word crawled throughout my body, taking up residence in every corner of my being. It gripped me tight and made no promise to ever let go. And I didn’t want it to.

_You can call me John_ , I thought, briefly forgetting that he already had.

“I’ll come to call you many things, and ‘John’ will only be one of them.”

_What if I don’t want you to call me many things?_

“You will. Give it time. Now, shut up. You’ve lost a lot of blood, and I need you to focus on not dying.”

_But you said you saved me._

“I never said you wouldn’t have to fight. Now, fight, John. FIGHT!” he commanded and then he was gone.

The moment he disappeared from view, everything else flooded back in. My sweet distraction was nowhere to be seen, and everything hurt. The fire of a thousand suns burned in my shoulder, almost as if someone had sent hot metal careening in to fuck shit up. Oh, wait…

My muscles tensed, my fists clenched, and I bucked up in revolt against the searing pain. Tendrils of agony wound and curled throughout my body, weaving through and wrapping around every available foothold. They laced themselves through my ribs, coiled around my spine, threaded through my pelvis, and anchored themselves in each of my extremities.

The string of expletives that followed would have been borderline embarrassing if I’d had the energy to give a flying fuck. Luckily, I didn’t.

_FIGHT!_

It rang in my head, echoing through my skull. What good was being saved if you still had to fight for your life? Perk number one, I guess, was not dying on a battlefield. I didn’t make it to perk number two before everything faded to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear in mind that I'm not currently using a beta, and I can't always guarantee how quickly new chapters will go up. However, I never leave a piece unfinished, so take solace in that. 
> 
> Comments, as always, are welcomed and appreciated. Hope you enjoy!


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